


Just friends

by ChocoNut



Series: Modern JB love [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bronn interferes, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Modern Westeros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21615607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: When Jaime and Brienne deny they're more than just friends, Bronn challenges them to spend a night locked indoors with just each other for company.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Modern JB love [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557871
Comments: 16
Kudos: 150





	Just friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ro_Nordmann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/gifts).

> For Ro, hope you like it.
> 
> Another practice piece to get back into writing.  
Thank you all for reading and hope you enjoy it!

“We’ll meet as usual in a while,” said Bronn, reminding them of their Friday routine as they were winding up. “Same time, same place.”

“Umm--I can’t make it tonight,” Jaime excused himself, recalling that tonight was his ‘_us_’ time with Brienne - one Friday a month where they met at either of their places to watch their favourite show followed by pizza and a laid-back chat to kill the week’s stress. 

“Nor can I,” Brienne backed him up. “You guys carry on, we’ll catch you next weekend.”

Sansa narrowed her eyes, first at her, then at Jaime. “Both of you have plans at the same time?”

“Hardly a coincidence,” Bronn chimed in, wearing the smirk he usually did whenever filthy thoughts began taking shape in his perennially corrupt mind.

“I’ve been thinking along the same lines,” Margaery tossed in her opinion, examining Brienne’s face for hints to details. Jaime looked away, rolling his eyes. The gossip monger that this girl was, he wouldn’t be surprised if she already had a detailed account of every minute Brienne spent with him - of what show they watched, what pizza they had, what they spoke of after that, et cetera, et cetera. “Last month,” she went on, her eyes lost in concentration and recollection, “both of you had backed out when we planned to go for a movie, and the month before that it was--”

“--our annual team dinner,” Sansa pointed out, her eyes widening. “You two ditched that as well, citing some excuse--”

“Oh, don’t you both get it?” Bronn cut in, regarding the two women with exasperation. “They’re more than just friends. They’ve been fucking for a while and they want to keep it from--”

“Shut up, Bronn!” Brienne cried out, indignant and horror-struck at the accusation, her reaction, surprisingly, irritating Jaime. 

_ Does she think I’m not good enough in bed? _

Men, she’d been with, though only a few along the years of their friendship, but Jaime had never been in favour of anyone she’d chosen. Despite putting up his best efforts to be friendly, he’d ended up despising every man who came into her life. Be it Renly or Hyle Hunt or Tormund, he constantly found himself nitpicking their character and habits, looking out for flaws, hoping, albeit ridden with guilt on hindsight, that she dropped them before the relationship could progress to an advanced stage.

Why he behaved this way, was a question he was afraid to face, the answer, most of the times, so glaring, that it blinded him. So obvious, sometimes it was and so in the face, that he forced himself to look away from it for fear of rejection. After a disastrous stint with Cersei, he’d decided that he wasn’t boyfriend material. 

He could never be the man Brienne wanted. He could never be her choice.

“Nope, it’s nothing more than an innocent get-together,” he supported her claim, steering clear of the web that threatened to lure him in. “We meet once a month for an evening, some television, dinner and maybe a drink or two--”

“Is that all?” Bronn prodded, sly as a fox. “And what happens after _ dinner _ and _ a drink _? A whole night of wild sex, I presume--”

“No,” Jaime put a full-stop to his rushing imagination, his ears growing warm when he began secretly wishing for Bronn’s theory to come true. “Now if you’ll excuse us--” he picked up his backpack, gesturing to Brienne that she do the same “--we’d better get going--”

“Not so fast, Lannister,” Bronn said, his face glowing with ominous glee, “not until you admit you’re more than friends.”

“We’re not,” Brienne reiterated, a lot more firmly this time.

“Prove it, then,” Bronn challenged, his tongue between his teeth, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Jaime braced himself for the worst. Bronn wasn’t a man you could easily convince. “I don’t understand.”

“Spend a night with her,” his crafty friend went on, “locked in your flat with no means to get out--”

Brienne placed herself in their path, her hands on her hips, her eyes piercing Bronn’s. “What’s that going to prove?”

“If you emerge from the _ adventure _ , unscathed--” Bronn’s grin turned crooked “-- _ unfucked _, I mean,” he corrected himself, “you win, and I’ll believe you. If not--”

“Fine,” Brienne jumped in response, grabbing her handbag. “If that’s going to smash your stupid theory to pieces, so be it.”

“We don’t have to do this, wench,” Jaime objected, her enthusiasm to go to any extent to prove Bronn wrong leaving him with a strange heaviness in his chest. 

“I want to,” said Brienne, when they entered the lift. “I’m up for this silly bet and we’re damn well gonna see it through.”

“We’ll see,” Bronn drawled. “I’m going to accompany you, and once you’re in, lock you inside and take away your keys. By morning if you haven’t succumbed to your temptation--”

“There’s no question of any temptation,” Brienne categorically stated, every word of her aggressive reaction convincing Jaime that Brienne would never be interested in him. 

Deflated, he said no more on the subject, gulping down his disappointment. Staring out of the glass cubicle of the lift, he watched the world go by as they descended, lost in thoughts and anxious about how this weekend might turn out to be. For months, he had fancied the wench, fantasizing about her, waking up from filthy dreams about her and slipping into lengthy visions of a life with her. He’d kept his feelings to himself only because he didn’t want to ruin the beautiful friendship they had. A righteous and principled woman like her would never want to get involved with a guy like him, his dark past repeatedly reminding him that she’d never feel the same about him. 

“Come on, then,” Bronn called, and only then did he notice that they’d already reached the car park.

+++++

Dinner was pizza they’d grabbed on their way, after which, Jaime sat at the edge of the sofa, twiddling his thumbs, wondering what to do next. From the time they’d been dropped off at his place with the keys in Bronn’s custody, they’d hardly spoken, their conversation restricted to just the bare minimum.

“Well,” he dragged, not knowing how else to diffuse the tension within him when Brienne emerged from his bedroom wearing the shorts and t-shirt she’d picked up from her place on their way. Usually this was the part where they watched TV for a while, then parted ways. “What do you want to do for the rest of the time?” he asked, trying to shoot down the bawdy suggestions his troubled mind was throwing up at him, not daring to dwell on over a hundred things he’d like to do to the wench. They’d done these weekends at least half a dozen times, but never once had he been this uncomfortable and tongue-tied.

“Dunno,” she replied with a casual shrug, glancing here and there as if the walls might give her a suggestion. 

“We could, maybe, re-watch the last season of _ ‘Friends to lovers’ _ since we have nothing else to do,” he said, hoping she’d cave in and oblige him with his favourite show.

“Again?” she groaned, slumping onto the sofa. “It’s not that I hate the drama and romance, but isn’t it too much for repeat viewing?”

“Oh, I’d love to re-watch the part where John and Kate accept they’re more than just friends and confess their feelings for each other,” he said, perching beside her on the edge of the sofa, reflecting how the episode so perfectly depicted his current state of mind, the hero in the story exactly _ him _ in every situation he’d been tossed into.

“We’ve watched that episode tons of times, so much that we’re both capable of shutting them down and reciting their cheesy dialogues,” she wearily pointed out, her pretty eyes screaming with boredom. “Can’t we just watch a movie or something? How about Star Wars--”

“After this episode--”

“Or maybe we could just call it a night?” she asked hopefully. “You can sleep in your room and I’ll just--” Since he had no spare bedroom, her gaze settled on the sofa, her only option.

“Just that one episode,” he pleaded with her, trying not to think of the possibility of having to share a room, and worse still, a bed with her. “After that we’ll do whatever you want. I promise.”

She sighed, then secured herself in a cozy posture with her never-ending legs folded to her chin. “Fine.”

“I have an idea to make this more interesting,” he said, brightening up at something novel that had just struck him. “Let’s play a little game.”

She gave him a look that seemed to say, _‘Really?’ _

“Why don’t we mute the dialogues?” he began explaining with enthusiasm, jumping off the sofa in excitement to fetch the remote. “You can enact Kate’s lines and I’ll chip in with John’s. That way, we’ll be better engaged.”

“Gods, no!” she grumbled, restlessness creeping into her features. “Don’t make me do something this stupid, Jaime.”

“C’mon, haven’t you done plays in school?” he implored, returning to his spot beside her. “This will be fun.” 

“I can’t--” she started to resist, but without waiting for her consent, he switched on the TV and silenced the volume. Ignoring her exasperated look, he began mouthing the character John’s lines, setting the ball rolling, pausing the show to look at her in anticipation when it was her turn to speak.

“Be a sport, wench,” he tried to goad her into accepting the challenge. “It’s just for five to ten minutes. We can watch your Star Wars after that.”

After an uncomfortable look and a heavy sigh, she reluctantly joined in, and within five minutes, they were in the thick of it, speaking the lines as if they were written for them, seamlessly stepping into the shoes of the characters they were supposed to be playing.

“After years of our deep friendship you can’t just cast me out of your life, Kate,” Jaime argued, every word at the tip of his tongue.

How perfectly he could relate to John! How desperate his situation was - attracted to a friend who’d never want to be more than that, unable to speak his heart out! Every day, he spent in agony, gulping down his frustration, living every minute in the hope that things might change between them, that their relationship would evolve into something more beautiful than what it already was.

“I have to, John,” Brienne cried, the pain in her eyes almost real. If someone hadn’t known this was an act, they’d have been fooled by the raw display of emotions behind her words. “We have no choice. We can’t see each other anymore. This is the end of _ us _\--”

“You can’t just discard in a jiffy what we’ve had for ages!” he said, putting up a fight against her drastic decision, shocked on behalf of John that his best friend would resort to such a thing.

She unfurled her legs to sit straight, not unlike the woman on TV. “I can, and I will, because it’s--”

The man on the screen shuffled closer to his heroine, and Jaime followed suit, his abrupt movement silencing her. “Why?” he asked, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I’m going nowhere unless you give me a valid reason. You owe me an explanation, Kate.”

“People are talking, John,” she explained, agitated. “They suspect there’s something between us, something more than--”

“I’ve heard those rumours too, and they’re rubbish, a pile of crap.” He shifted closer, and his leg brushed against hers, bringing them nearer than they’d ever been before. “Why do you bother about what they think?” he asked, looking her sharply in the eye.

Brienne opened her mouth to say something, then shut it, averting her gaze. “Because it’s not entirely their fault,” she replied in hushed tones. “It’s because I--” 

She stopped mid-way to pick a knot on the sofa covers.

Jaime shifted another few inches towards her, his thigh pressing into her smooth skin, the contact sending all the blood rushing to his groin, the uncontrollable stirring within his shorts throwing him off the lines he was supposed to continue with. “Because you--” he stuttered. The drama on the screen forgotten, he placed a hand on hers, and he could feel her fingers twitch under his touch. “Because you have feelings for me, Kate?”

Her eyes jumped up to meet his again, her cheeks acquiring a tint of pink he’d never seen on her before. “John, I--”

“I hope I’m right,” he said hoarsely, angling his face towards hers, “because I’ve fallen in love with you--” _ wench, _ he was about to say, but checking himself on time, he buried his true intent with a heavyhearted, “ _ Kate. _”

“John,” she breathed, her dreamy eyes sucking him in like a whirlpool.

With a start, he realized he wasn’t merely mimicking his onscreen counterpart. These words--these sappy dialogues were a wake up call to pull him out of his slumber and draw his attention to the complete extent of his feelings for her. The pair miming their love scene on the screen showed him the mirror, telling him it wasn’t a crush nor mere sexual attraction. Far more than that, it was, something far deeper than he’d felt for anyone - even Cersei.

_ Love, it is, Brienne. What else do I call it? How else do I express it? _

“For months, I’ve been dreaming about you, thinking of nothing, but you, hoping you’d find more than just a bloody friend in me. For days, I’ve been wanting to tell you this,” he gushed, now that their defenses were down, cracking open a channel for him to freely express himself without the fear of rejection and ruining whatever they had. Completely in character, she was, in her reaction to his proclamation, her eyes looking into his with warmth, shining with affection, the longing in them making him wish her feelings were real. “Every fucking time I try to open my mouth, I develop cold feet, I don’t know how to--”

“It’s not just you,” she cried, threading her fingers in his. “I love you. I have, for a while. I was scared to tell you, worried you might not reciprocate--” 

Again, she stopped talking, choosing to stare at the sofa, her whole body shivering under the impact of the confession.

Jaime nudged her chin up with his thumb and forefinger, and her lips parted, though she still refused to look at him. “Look at me,” he begged, hoping she’d allow him the privilege of dying in her eyes. She obliged him, the smile on her lips, the delicious combination of vulnerability and heated desire in her eyes making him want to kiss her, to make love to her until she screamed, to spend his whole lifetime with her. He devoured her with his eyes, never taking his gaze off her for even a second, barely blinking, and her breathing went from rapid to urgent to frantic, so desperate that he could almost sense her heart thumping out of her chest. 

“Oh, you don’t know how much I want you,” he whispered, and no longer able to control the pangs of his heart, he caressed her mouth with his, gently at first, ready to pull away at the slightest sign of reluctance. 

With a weak gasp, she closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss, a sign that she wanted this as much as him. Her honeyed lips were heaven, sweet and intoxicating like a drug to an addict, so irresistible that he feared he might find it impossible to let go, to get over her. Cupping the back of her neck, he deepened the kiss with a fierceness he couldn't hold back. Wild and possessive, he was, punishing her, smothering the little whimper that tried to escape her, covering her mouth with little bites and nicks. His fingers crept up her cheek and into her short hair, eager to delve deeper, aching to explore, desperate to feel every bit of skin he could reach. She melted into him, groaning in delight, and he pushed deeper, his tongue entwined in hers, consuming her like he’d never been with a woman before. She reached out to touch his face, holding him, pulling him in, pushing into his mouth with demand that challenged his, the softness of her fingers against his rough stubble driving him nuts, making him wish this weren’t just a stupid scene they were playing out--

_ The scene on TV... _

He drew away with a start when reality dealt him a cruel blow, jerking him out of the fantasy land he’d strayed into in his state of frenzy. “We can’t do this,” he said, panting, dismayed that their passion had to meet a premature end, “the bet--”

Brienne drew him back into her arms with a conviction that surprised him. “Fuck the bet,” she rasped, her chest heaving, the distinct outline of her firm nipples making him hard enough to drill a hole in his shorts. “I don’t care what Bronn thinks. To hell with them, to hell with this stupid show, to hell with everything else.” 

She fixed him with a blazing gaze when he took a moment to react. “I want you, Jaime.”

Shoving her to the edge of the sofa, he took her mouth, going into it with everything he had, the coarseness of his rough cheek leaving angry red lines wherever his skin met hers. She sank back into the cushions, pulling him atop her, pressing his chest to hers, holding his body in place with her arms and legs that wrapped around him like they always belonged there. She kissed him back like a woman possessed, moan after helpless moan echoing the rhythm of his ruthless mouth, short-circuiting his brain, leaving him incapable of thinking about anything but her and the night that lay in wait for them. 

Leaving her mouth, he took to ravaging the rest of her, her cheeks, her chin, her throat, dropping hot, wet kisses wherever he went. He traveled down the attractive column of her shapely neck, nibbling, sucking, tasting before settling on her chest. “Make love to me,” she demanded, tightening her legs around his hips, and he buried his face between her breasts, his hands groping them over the thin material of her tee, caressing them, tormenting her until she cried aloud, every lusty sound he managed to extract out of her, torturing the hell out of him. “Here, Jaime. _ Now! _” 

Like a man in a trance, he obeyed, peeling the offending shirt off her, uncovering her perfect breasts that were just the right size to fit in his palms. Wasting no time, he took to feasting on the exquisite work of art that was her body. 

Twisting and struggling, shuddering and squirming against one another, they began freeing each other from the confinement of their clothes, their attempts, from time to time, impeded by the torrid kisses they exchanged, each driving him harder than before, making him yearn to be inside her, to wish for this night to never end, for this fantasy to be real.

Their efforts bore fruit, at last, when the buttons came undone along with the zippers and every damn mechanism that stood in their way. Naked, they were, and before they long, wrapped around each other, flesh searing into flesh, his mouth on hers, his body melded with hers, his cock buried deep within her with nothing but a condom to separate them. He began thrusting into her slick wetness, going faster with every move, hitting spots that made her sigh and whimper and scream his name in blissful agony.

Every gasp, every moan and every feral sound that left her throat, he’d remember forever, etched into his memory like an image carved in stone, this night, never to be forgotten, a beautiful dream he’d cherish forever. “_Yes_,” she sighed heavily, when he flicked his tongue across her nipple, and when his fingers went on a rampage on her breasts, she screamed, “_yes_,” again, this time much louder, her fingernails digging hard into his back, clouding his head, blanking out everything but her. 

Her hips thrashed against his, every move she made, in perfect sync with his. A helpless yell, it was, when he began pounding harder, her muscles tightening around him when he kept going, her lush warmth exploding around him, driving her to a loud cry of his name and another high-pitched “_ yes! _” when she collapsed under him.

When he reached a climax that ripped him apart, when he met her lips again, his world belonged to Brienne.

Rather, she was his world.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
*****

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Brienne opened her eyes to the sunlight streaming through the curtains. She was in Jaime’s bedroom, in his bed, in his arms, her head resting on his bare chest, her leg trapped between his and his cock comfortably nestled between her thighs.

She stretched her arms, looking back at the tempestuous night they’d had. Wilder than the wildest she’d had, it had been electric, leaving her dazed and weak, and at the same time, absolutely content and at peace with the world. Jaime had been the only thing on her mind all night, the only one who mattered to her in this whole wide world, every line she’d spoken, straight from the bottom of her heart. 

She’d lost control of her mind, her body, her senses, the willpower that had kept her emotions in check for months shattered to bits with just one kiss and a romantic scene.

They’d fucked hard on the sofa, and when they could muster the patience to let go of each other for a few seconds, they’d dragged themselves to the bedroom, making sweet tender love, taking the time to explore each other before it had culminated in a mind-blowing orgasm.

She looked up at his face with a heavy sigh, admiring his square jaw, his chiselled features, the way the golden rays kissed his luscious hair. She loved him, she was sure of that, but of him, she couldn’t say, because he’d said nothing else last night, falling asleep in her arms soon after they’d had sex. 

Was it just a one-night stand? A weak moment of passion they’d both succumbed to? 

The doubt killed the euphoria she was riding high on, leaving her feeling like Cinderella. The clock had struck midnight. The ball was over. She’d never see her prince again and life would return to normal from Monday. 

Just as she was about to extricate herself from the tangle of limbs they were, he stirred beneath her. “Morning, wench,” he said, his seductive voice hitting her with a fresh wave of arousal.

“We need to get dressed,” she said in what she thought was a matter-of-fact tone. “Before Bronn and the others get here, we should--” She was interrupted by the doorbell. “There he is,” she panicked. “We ought to pretend nothing happened between us.”

She made to get up, but he pulled her back to his chest. “Fuck the bet, Brienne.”

The bell kept screaming. “But why he is ringing the bell?” she wondered. “Why aren’t they just unlocking the door and--” Only then did she remember, that they’d bolted the door from inside last night. Bronn couldn’t enter with just the set of keys he had.

“Fuck them,” Jaime whispered. Flipping her over, he pinned her down, his cock hardening when he got on top of her. “Ignore them all, Brienne. Let them draw any damn conclusion they like. I don’t care.”

This time, she made no attempt to get away, her heart thundering away in hope and anticipation, anxiety and expectation. Did he mean what she thought he did? “Jaime, are you saying that--”

“Yes,” he answered, before she could fully express her doubt. “Every word I said last night was _ me, _ Brienne, not some character from a show, and every bit of it, nothing but the truth.” Slightly hurt, he appeared to be, when he looked deeply into her eyes. “I know you feel the same. I can see it in your eyes, so why, then, do you want to pretend last night meant nothing to you?”

“I love you, Jaime,” she almost sobbed, “I have, for months, but I wasn’t sure about you. I thought last night was just a weak moment, that you’d get back to normal once this had passed--”

The rest of her words were drowned in his mouth, the burning intensity of his kiss wiping out every ounce of doubt in her head, answering every question that bothered her.

“They’ve gone,” Jaime breathed, when the doorbell had left them in peace, but he’d spoken too soon, for his phone began buzzing. “It’s him,” he said, grabbing it from under the pillow. “I have to answer it because if I don’t, he’ll think we’re dead or something.”

“Why the fuck are you guys not opening the door?” Bronn growled out of the speaker the second Jaime accepted the call. 

“We can’t let you in,” Jaime shouted back, “because we’re sort of--er--” He paused to kiss her, and she moaned, the weight of his body and the pressure of his mouth driving her crazy. She wanted him again, his skin on hers, his body around her, to make love to him all day and all night.

“Wait--” Bronn’s voice wafted out of the phone. “Are you in bed?” 

Ignoring the question, Jaime continued to kiss her, and the deeper he delved into her mouth, the louder her noises became, and more out of her control. “Is that Brienne with you?” Bronn went on, sounding excited, “Are you two kissing--”

“Gods, Jaime!” Brienne couldn’t help crying out when he let go of her mouth to breathe. His erection was back to its glorious best, nudging her opening when he began grinding his hips against hers, setting her on fire all over again.

“Hah!” Bronn exclaimed, loudly and triumphantly when he’d heard her voice. “I told you I’m gonna win, that you two--”

“None of your business, Bronn,” Jaime yelled back, then disconnecting the call, he tossed the phone aside.

Reclaiming her lips, he returned to his _ business. _

  
  
  



End file.
